


Pass the Parcel

by lullabelle



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: touchyerwood, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snowballing, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-11
Updated: 2010-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullabelle/pseuds/lullabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gwen walks in on Jack and Ianto (again), it turns into a team bonding experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pass the Parcel

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt on the anon kink meme, touchyerwood: "Jack/Gwen/Ianto, snowballing". So, yes, there's that. Beta'd by azn_jack_fiend and heddychaa. Thanks so much, guys!

It's nothing like last time.

Before, when Gwen had walked in on them, there had been that moment of shocked stillness, followed by Ianto setting a new record for the reapplication of fashionable trousers. And Jack, well, he'd taken it in stride. Hell, he’d probably found it a turn-on.

This time... this time is very different.

This time she walks into Jack's office with a stack of paperwork to be signed in one hand, and a Starbucks coffee, which she will have to hide from Ianto if she wants to avoid one of his coffee snob tirades, in the other. This time she finds Ianto on his back across Jack's desk (and across the _last_ batch of paperwork she’d delivered, probably still unsigned), moaning in a way she’s surprised she hadn’t been able to hear from outside the door. This time Jack has his mouth very full, his nose buried in Ianto’s wiry pubic hair, one knee on his desk chair for leverage as he grasps hard onto Ianto’s hips, fingers indenting his skin. Behind her, the door she’s forgotten she opened finishes its slow journey shut with loud whumf. She jumps and reflexively checks behind herself. When she turns back around Jack and Ianto are both looking at her. And yeah, this bit _is_ a little like last time -- that split second of getting caught.

Jack moves first, draws off of Ianto in a long, slow slurp, ending in a pop of released pressure. Sometime during Jack’s journey, Ianto’s eyes close, and his head drops back so he’s again lying flat on the desk.

She’s not sure why she hasn’t left yet, and she’s _really_ not sure why they’re not stopping, now that they know she’s here. Instead, Jack wraps one hand around Ianto’s cock and jerks slowly as he asks her, “Are those the press statements for the Penylan case?”

“Um...” She clears her throat, and forces as much casual demeanor into what she is about to say as she possibly can. “Yeah. Best cover story intimidation can buy. Just needs your signature.”

“Put it over there,” Jack says, gesturing vaguely with his free hand, she guesses to the towering pile of paper and manila envelopes that constitutes his inbox. Of course, putting it ‘over there’ necessitates walking right past Ianto’s head. She takes a deep breath, reminds herself that she chases weevils for a living -- this is nothing -- and wills herself to move. She walks forward, to the far corner of Jack’s desk, as nonchalantly as she can, keeping her eyes straight ahead, and drops the paperwork on the top of the towering pile.

There’s a slurping sound from her left. Obviously Jack has gotten back to business. She can’t help it. She looks down, but she looks at Ianto, at his face. She does not look at Jack, and what Jack is doing to Ianto, even though just the sounds are enough to make her face flush. Ianto is staring up at her, and she meets his gaze, holds it. He bites his lip and moans again, strangled and half-suppressed, and it’s possible that maybe he’s embarrassed by her presence, or maybe he’s a little unsure, like she is. But all and all, it’s pretty clear that Jack’s not the only person here who likes being watched. Before she can stop herself, or convince herself it’s a bad idea (and oh, it’s an _awful_ idea) she rakes her fingers back through Ianto’s hair, lightly dragging her nails across his scalp. He smiles a little, a one-sided crook of his mouth, and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, which she takes as an invitation to lean over and catch it with her mouth, sucking sloppily, as filthy as she can make it because, really, filthy is the only way she can do this.

“Don’t come yet,” she hears Jack warn from somewhere far away. She kisses her way up Ianto’s throat and over his chin, a little scratchy this late in the day, to get to his mouth. He kisses her back playfully, nipping at her bottom lip as she pulls away. She uses one arm to knock a few items off Jack’s desk, a day calender and a hunk of coral, but carefully avoids the ominous tower of paperwork she’s only just added to. She gets up on the desk next to Ianto kind of gracelessly, but whatever, her knees near his head and her feet hanging off the far edge of the desk. Her hands go to his throat, to the knot of his tie, intent on getting it undone so that she can get to more skin. Unfortunately for her, Ianto’s tie is expertly knotted. She has to try a couple of different attacks before she figures it out.

“You Gwen-proofed it,” she accuses, softly, when it finally gives.

“Jack-proofed it,” he corrects at the exact moment Jack does something _very good_ outside Gwen’s line of sight. Ianto grunts Jack’s name as he arches off the table, and Gwen just _has_ to look. She sees that Jack has two fingers all the way in Ianto’s arse and is thrusting them in time with the bob of his head. He catches her looking and pauses for a beat with his mouth around just the head of Ianto’s cock, only long enough to wink at her before descending again.

Gwen turns her attention back to Ianto, or his upper half anyway, undoing the top buttons of his shirt, dipping her head to nibble at his collarbone. She has to sit back on her heels and fold her torso over to reach, and with her feet hanging off the edge of the desk, all of her weight is resting on her shins. She hopes beyond hope that she doesn’t fall off. Ianto’s breathing heavily beneath her, and she can feel his heart thudding where her hand rests idly on his chest. She pushes his shirt open further so she can move her mouth down, kissing and sucking over the apex of that racing heartbeat. She hovers there a moment before moving on, down, until she’s over his nipple. She swirls her tongue around and through the stray hairs surrounding before closing over it with her teeth. She gives maybe a little more pressure than she would have liked on herself and --

Ianto shouts and she can feel his hips bucking outside her line of sight. She removes her teeth from his nipple and turns her head, cheek resting in the path of saliva she’s left across Ianto’s chest like a slugtrail. She catches Jack’s gaze and holds it. His mouth is still clamped over Ianto’s twitching cock as he sucks him through his orgasm. She turns her face away from Jack and kneels back up, her back aching from maintaining such an awkward position for so long. She’s a little unsure of what to do next. Ianto’s watching her through heavy-lidded eyes, looking positively debauched, and Jack is still making lewd slurping and smacking noises down by his crotch. She feels like she’s on display, towering over them the way she is. She feels a bit... untethered. She smiles down at Ianto and, still feeling awkward but determined to hide it, brushes one thumb over his lower lip. Ianto tilts his head up just an inch to draw her thumb into his mouth, sucks it hard. The feel of that warm, wet suction ignites a jolt of sensation that shoots through her abdomen and ends in her cunt, making everything down there tighten. She bites her lip to strangle a moan, and she completely doesn’t notice Jack moving around the desk toward her, not until he’s right there, still fully clothed, trousers tenting impressively. Oh god, why did she have to wear the _tight_ denims today? She has never been more hyper-aware of them, and she wants them gone.

Jack reaches for her, and she turns to meet him, as he brings one hand to her waist and the other to the back of her neck, dropping his head toward hers. Their lips meet. His mouth is a hard tight line at first, nothing like the way she’d imagined it, until she uses her lips to coax his apart and -- oh! Her eyes widen when she realizes that Jack’s mouth is still full. And that -- just the idea of it -- is absolutely _devastating_. She groans, deep in the back of her throat, but it’s muffled by Jack’s mouth. Her hands go to the back of his head, mashing his lips against her own. He grabs her with both hands by the waist and pulls her forward, her knees dragging rather painfully against the desk until she’s right at the edge, pressed flush against him. She kneels back just a little, without breaking away from Jack’s mouth, because as much as she loves the full-body contact, she likes it better when he’s the one bearing down on her, and not the other way around. She chalks it up to things she doesn’t want to examine too closely. Jack seeks out her tongue with his own, and suddenly all she can taste is Ianto, thick and bitter, as Jack passes the whole wet load into her mouth. She keeps it a moment, considers it, swirls it around with her tongue a bit, and her mouth is watering, and she swirls that as well, and then passes it back, and she thinks she can feel the corners of Jack’s mouth quirking upwards, and yeah, she’s finding it fun too, and so, so hot...

Jack passes Ianto’s come back and this time she concedes, pulling away from Jack slowly in a mostly successful attempt to keep it all in, with only one long ropey trail escaping, slick and shiny and coating both of their lips, tying her mouth to Jack’s as she pulls away. She’s breathing hard and she feels like if someone doesn’t touch her -- _really_ touch her -- soon, she’s going to explode.

Jack’s looking to her expectantly. And she loves that he’s looking at her with _that_ expression, but... um. Is she supposed to swallow?

Then she sees Ianto looking at her just as expectantly, and she knows exactly what she's supposed to do. She quickly scoots herself backward, swinging one leg over Ianto’s waist to straddle him, and bends down to press her mouth to his. She tries to emulate Jack’s maneuver, thinks _vacuum seal_ , but in the end both her lips and Ianto’s are covered with come and spit. It reminds her a bit of mother bird feeding her young, and she struggles not to laugh. God, if she thought blowing soda out her nose was bad... Okay, now she _is_ laughing, at least until Ianto’s hands reach down to grab her arse, and he’s been so passive that it shocks her silent. She really, really needs to get her denims off.

She smiles and sighs as Ianto runs his hands up her sides, brushing over her breasts and gently pushing at her shoulders. She takes the hint and pulls away. He opens his mouth to her to show her his white-coated tongue and then makes it all disappear in one smooth swallow. He licks his lip, and she licks her own in unconscious response. Jack’s behind her now, and again, she has no idea how he got there, but she’s certainly not protesting as he kneels on the desk behind her (thank God Jack’s desk is damn sturdy; she can’t help but wonder if he purchased it with these kinds of scenarios in mind...) and slips his fingers into her belt loops.

In front of her, Ianto sits up and -- finally, _finally_ \-- reaches for the button on her denims, smacks his lips together and says, “You know, I can still taste the shit coffee in your mouth.”

Gwen snorts, leans her shoulders back against Jack, and thrusts her hips forward. “I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”


End file.
